The Landslide Series 1: Landslide
by KSPretenderFan
Summary: John and Zoe sitting in a tree (er - Penthouse Suite) . . . well you know where this is going. . .
1. Chapter 1

AN1: This fic was inspired by the song Landslide originally by the great Stevie Nicks and covered by the Dixie Chicks.

AN2: This contains spoilers for S2E15: Booked Solid. You all knew I just had to write some John/Zoe smut after that last awesome episode. This is not part of the Risk Series, instead might be the start of a new series of J/Z fic. I probably won't focus on building a history for Zoe as I had done in the Risk Series.

AN3: Thanks to POIJane and SassyJ for the beta's and for humoring my obsession with John and Zoe. And no, I will not call this ship ZReese, Roe, Zohn, or Joe. To me, it is what it is John/Zoe.

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**Chapter 1:**

Zoe Morgan was an accomplished Fixer, Crisis Manager, what have you. Her chosen profession tended to lead her into dangerous waters at times. Her clients often got themselves into sticky situations and it was her job to guard their public image with a vengeance. Her job wasn't to question whether or not her clients were guilty of whatever transgression they have been accused of, it was her job to put the best positive spin on the situation.

Zoe the Fixer had no need for the common everyday life many women her age seemed to be trapped in. No family, a husband, children, pets, nothing of personal significance. To the casual observer who never got past the icy façade, Zoe's life revolved around her work, her plan to always have a way out of any compromising situation whether it be with something to trade or a new angle. If she came across as an unfeeling, calculating, and cold, then so be it. Having the upper hand was a good thing, critical in her line of work. Zoe Morgan hadn't found the merits of love nor was she looking for it.

The key to her sexual life was similar to her work. Discretion was in her vocabulary, stupidity and carelessness were not. Her sexual escapades, where she deemed them necessary, were always on her terms. They never occurred at her home which she considered her personal hideaway from the world. It was generally a no-strings attached event, and always careful. Both parties generally agreed to enjoy the other's company for however long it lasted. And the parting of ways was always amiable. So why did her heart, its presence forgotten long ago, skip a few beats at John's proposition?

"Ever consider doing in-house work? This place could use someone in Crisis Management." It was the suggestion that she needed to find less dangerous work that brought up the initial feeling of wariness. That he seemed to care for her safety. No one had given it a thought in a very long time.

"I like to move around. More freelancer. Like you." John covered well, his look of surprise at her seemingly wanting to be like him. He couldn't fathom why anyone would chose to put themselves in danger on a regular basis. Other than the fact that they were both fixers in their chosen professions, he hadn't given it a thought that they had more in common than he had first surmised.

John felt that it was high time to get to know the wily Ms. Morgan better. "It's a nice place. Maybe I'll even stick around for one more night." When they had stayed that extra night at Far Rockaway, the attraction between the two of them was palpable. Yet, neither one had made any sort of sexual overture towards each other. There was a plethora of hints, innuendoes, suggestions and more, yet at the end of the night they each went to their own rooms not to surface again until morning. Disappointing to both of them, he was sure, but neither one willing to concede that it was the right time for such a move.

"Well, I heard it was all booked. But, then again, you do know the owner," Zoe said coyly.

He flashed the key card. "The penthouse suite . . . " Swirling the key card in the air, he suggested, "Another round?"

Zoe knew that it was time for the next step in their little song and dance, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. She couldn't help but feel that once she crossed that line that she had no definition for, that it will forever be crossed and there was no coming back. Not one to doubt herself, Zoe felt trepidation that if she accepted John's proposition, she would never be the same again. And that confused her.

Mentally shaking off her momentary lapse into self-doubt, she did what she would normally do and forged on. This game of chicken between them was finally coming to a head. The timing had finally worked in their favor. As long as she kept her wits about her and never let her guard down, she was willing to see where the penthouse would lead.

Deciding to call his bluff, for that was what she felt he was doing, she grabbed the key card from his hand. "I'll meet you up there."

To answer his quizzical look, she said, "Safety first . . ."

Nodding his head in understanding he was relieved that she had thought of it because he certainly hadn't, he replied, "See you in a few."

Fighting the urge to gulp, Zoe nodded. Damn, he called her bluff too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"There is no turning back now," she whispered as she unlocked the door to the penthouse suite, crossing that proverbial line in the sand.

She slowly walked in and made sure the door was tightly shut and securely locked before scanning the interior of the dimly lit suite.

John was lounging on the couch, his appearance completely relaxed for he had fallen asleep. He was certainly a sight to be seen, barefoot with his shirt unbuttoned to the waist, she noticed that he had taken his body armor off and had hung it in the hallway closet. Distracted for a bit, she ran her hands over the vest, taking note of all telltale dents in it, in awe that something so slim could protect his life.

"Zoe," John called out grabbing her attention. He had instantly come awake as soon as the door had opened.

"John," she replied sardonically as she set her purse and her overnight bag on the floor.

He took note of her overnight bag, "No wonder you were gone awhile . . . " In her line of work, discretion was a must. No reason calling unwanted attention to yourself by leaving a hotel in the same clothes you wore the night before. Zoe Morgan did not do the walk of shame.

She moved smoothly across the room, stopped in front of him, and remarked coolly, "A tad cliché isn't it?" Referring to the blanket spread across the floor in front of the couch.

Zoe was stunned as she took in the bucket of ice with a bottle of Champaign, and next to it, a bowl of big red strawberries. She had a hard time grasping the notion that someone would do something like this for her, least of all John, who she had suspected didn't have a romantic bone in his body. Warning bells went off in the back of her head and she reacted the only way she knew how, with sarcasm. "The only thing missing are the oysters."

John recognized the sarcastic tone and the veiled look that crossed her face. Zoe was uncomfortable dealing with something and he suspected he knew what. He stood up and cupped her face. Rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks in a gesture of comfort he said, "Your terms, Zoe."

She told him her terms, he agreed without showing any hesitation whatsoever. He understood her terms; it was pragmatic to say the least. Each of their chosen professions left little time for personal attachments and there was always safety to consider.

She put her arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his mouth. "Thank you John," she whispered.

"If that's what you want, then, so be it," he responded, kissing her back. "Have I told you that you look stunning? The dress fits you perfectly and shows off your best feature."

Zoe wasn't sure how to respond. She just smiled, wrapping her arms tighter around him. "And what pray tell would my best feature be?" She asked, pulling his head down again for another kiss.

"You know, you're this little midget of a thing, but your legs, they just seem like they're a mile long and . . ." he paused noting her looking at him askance. He quickly reviewed what he had said and cringed.

"I am not a midget, I'm considered petite." She narrowed her eyes and huffed her displeasure.

"Uh-oh, I guess I should have quit while I was ahead?"

"Or just shut your pie hole."

She seized fistfuls of his shirt and used it to tug his head down. Without vacillation, she met his lips and kissed him hard.

John broke off the kiss, pulled back slightly, and studied her face intently. He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her and sealed his lips over hers again.

She kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his as she pushed up his shirt and began exploring his long, lean body. She'd always wondered what it would be like with John, and, damnit, she was going to find out. It only took a few minutes to yank his shirt up and try and pull it off. John broke off the kiss, cursing slightly as he divested himself of the offending garment.

John's hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Over her back and shoulder, skimming her backside, Zoe enjoyed every moment. His fingers rubbed small circles on her breasts, caressing her through the soft silk of her dress. Zoe groaned as John continued, letting his thumbs flick her already taut nipples. He smiled as Zoe threw her head backwards. He gently kissed her forehead; at the same time he tried to unzip the zipper on her dress. He quickly succeeded and gently slid it over her shoulders; Zoe stepped out of it, letting it fall to the floor in a heap joining his shirt. She placed a wet kiss on his bare chest then took a step back, watching him.

"I can see why that dress looked good on you," John whispered, observing every inch of her slender form.

"You don't look so bad yourself. . . Jesus" she said as she got a good look at his torso. She looked up towards his face, shocked when she met hurt blue eyes before the shutters slammed down and his face became completely indiscernible. His lips thinned and his eyes went blank. She immediately regretted her exclamation.

Grabbing his face she said, "Don't, John, there is nothing to be ashamed of, I was just not expecting it." Feeling him relax, she ran her hands over his body, cataloguing each and every mar on his skin. A jagged scar on his shoulder, the result of a knife wound, he said. She gently caressed the bullet wound on the left side his abdomen, courtesy of the CIA, it was part of a pair, the other was on his left thigh, she had yet to see. She gently ran her fingers and her lips over each and every scar, paying homage to the hard life John had led so far.

Zoe noticed his reaction. One of relief, that his scarring didn't repel her. She immediately pulled him closer; providing what little comfort she could. He let her arms comfort him, doing calming motions at his back. John was in awe, it had been quite some time since anyone had shown him such tenderness.

Pulling away, she glanced down at herself, suddenly feeling awfully ridiculous for standing there in her underwear, still wearing her heels. Quirking a lip, she kicked them off, surprising John as she became several inches shorter.

"You are a midget . . . " John chuckled slightly as she playfully batted his arm.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked softly.

Zoe shook her head no. "Take me to bed, John." Zoe commanded.

John lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, gently laying her on the bed. Zoe looked at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Lose the pants."

He hurriedly stripped it off, taking his boxers along for good measure and tossed them aside then moved forward.

She touched her lips gently to his, soft kisses at first; the kisses that followed however grew more demanding than the last. Breaking away from her mouth, he caressed her neck, shoulders, and breasts with his eyes. As his right hand reached up, and gently stroked her neck and throat, she felt a flutter in her stomach.

Smiling, John leant down and left a wet trail across her chest with his tongue, stopping as his lips touched the line of her bra. Zoe leaned back allowing him to continue. She couldn't prevent the small gasp that escaped her lips as she felt his tongue sliding under the dark lace. Closing her eyes, she felt him moving his lips over her breast, sucking at her nipple. Her breath came in short bursts as she realized that it was only her bra which was in the way. She wanted to be next to him with no barriers.

Knowing what she wanted, he slowly reached behind her. Maintaining eye contact, he unclasped her bra, letting it slide off her shoulders, leisurely revealing more and more of her perfectly shaped breasts. John slowly moved towards her, placing a soft kiss on her mouth and continuing down the nape of her neck, and finally to her naked breasts. Zoe sighed as his mouth made contact with her already sensitized nipple. It felt fabulous and John certainly knew how to draw it out; licking, sucking and gently nibbling; applying just the right amount of pressure and making Zoe want more.

Zoe gasped as John softly stroked a hand up and down her thigh, his fingers coming ever closer to her most sensitive spot. She cried out loud as he touched her through her panties then carefully started to remove them, leaving her completely naked. Pulling him to her, she sought his lips once more and as her tongue gently pushed into his mouth, her hand slid down his chest and past his stomach. She began to stroke him, allowing the friction to build.

John left another trail of kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat, to her breasts. Though Zoe was having a difficult time focusing, the weight of him in her hand served as a reminder. As she pulled away slightly from him, every over-sensitized nerve in her body protested.

"I have to get . . . in my purse . . . " She stated, not knowing whether she made sense or not, her breathing coming in short spurts she was already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Starting to get up off the bed, she halted as he shook his head.

Though John appeared to be as discombobulated as she was, he understood what she was trying to say. He failed miserably when he tried to pull himself together enough to focus. He was too enraptured in tracing his hand down every dip and curve of her body. "Nightstand . . . already had some," he murmured. His hand wandered back, dipping between her legs.

Zoe trembled. "Hold that thought." Turning to face the nightstand, she rifled through the drawer and found an unopened box. "Always be prepared? I should have known you were a boy scout."

"Not me," John responded. "The hotel staff . . . " He added by way of explanation.

Her breath hitched when her back was turned to him. He had started to do something that felt utterly heavenly with his hands; he seemed incapable of not touching her. Muscles she hadn't even known existed were brought to her attention when they relaxed at John's precise ministrations.

"Ever consider doing in-house work? This place could use a masseuse." Holy Heavens, he was that good.

_Focus on the task at hand, Zoe_. Body parts wanting fulfillment screamed. Turning back towards him, she ripped the package open with her teeth. His eyes followed every move in anticipation. Zoe paused, smiling. "Ready, John?"

His grin, reminiscent of the time they broke into Vartanen Pharmaceuticals, was so full of promise that her body went into overdrive. Anticipating what was about to happen.

"Always," he said brushing a strand of hair back from her face, his hand lingering.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulled her closer to him and kissed her once again. The heat of the kiss consumed her and though she was as much in control as he, she came perilously close to throwing caution to the wind and letting her impulses, her body's need for satisfaction to come first. It took every ounce of strength she had left to pull away and complete what she had initially started.

"Let me help you with this." Hands confident and sure, she slipped the condom onto John, rolling it excruciatingly slow while watching his face; reveling in the effect the deliberate touch of her fingers, was causing.

Unable to resist the quick stroke, Zoe realized instantly that she may have found John's limit, noting his tightly clenched jaw. "Christ," he gasped. His hands fisted on the sheets; spontaneously reaching for one she laid a gentle kiss upon it willing it to relax. As if any more contact from her was too much for him, he flinched then quivered.

Her eyes locking with John's, she decided that enough was enough. And in one swift movement, she straddled him, hands on either side. He was beautiful, looking up at her, those blue eyes darkened with want.

With only a moment's hesitation and a half-smile, he was inside her.

Clearly, it was not the first time for either of them, yet they both stilled at the sensation. After months of tip-toeing around each other, being joined in such an intimate manner was both frightening as well as completely right; as if they had come home. Had the thought that this would happen cross her mind? Had it crossed his?

Zoe was completely satisfied relishing in the contact, until her need overwhelmed her.

The ebb and flow of the centuries old movement: motion, friction, heat. Simple concepts by themselves, but combined, it was something else; multifaceted and fresh, each and every time. She watched him as she moved, tentatively at first – acclimating to him; observing his responses. Recognizing that the tension within her was gathering quickly, she amplified the fervor and cadence of her movement. John's hands moved to touch her, urging her on. When their eyes met, dark with want and need, it was as if they were in a place that was indefinable, a place where a connection was made.

Arching upward with a gasp, he came before her. Mere heartbeats later, she followed suit, joining him as everything she thought she knew about herself shattered into a million pieces with unexpected vigor, igniting in a flash of luminosity and heat and a release that seemed to be never ending.

Collapsing next to him, she ran a hand over his chest, feeling the quick staccato of his heartbeat beneath his damp skin. He gathered her to him, her head resting on his chest. Kissing her forehead, he tugged the sheet up to keep them warm. "Good night, Zoe," she heard him say. At that moment, Zoe couldn't imagine being or wanting to be anywhere else. She could hear his heartbeat, gradually slowing; feel the rise and fall of his chest, lulling her to sleep.

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Zoe woke slowly. The muted brightness of the early morning sun filled the room as she stretched lazily. She flexed her sore muscles. Aching and tender in the most pleasing of ways, she sighed in contentment. Careful not to disturb John, she gently extricated her limbs from his under the covers. Glancing at him, she noted that for the first time she was seeing John completely relaxed. The amount of trust it took for him to fall asleep and stay asleep next to her was too much for her to grasp, even after the night they had just spent together.

Everything that had occurred between them was too much for her. She had to step back; to think, to ponder, to analyze. A landslide of feelings and emotions long stagnant and forgotten was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure she knew how to deal with them. And though he had agreed to her terms, she wasn't sure if those terms were acceptable to her.

Getting up slowly so as not to disturb John's slumber, Zoe got out of bed and dressed quickly. Without saying goodbye but with one last conflicted but longing look at John, Zoe left.

The End


End file.
